Chapter 48 – False Hope

Marcus paced like a caged animal, his boots scuffing against the floor. His normally composed face was twisted with frustration. Across the room, Ethan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking like he was one wrong word away from detonating. The air was thick and suffocating, and my pulse thudded like a war drum.

A lead. On Quinn.

I’d been chasing ghosts for five goddamn years. If this was another dead end, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold it together.

“Spit it out,” I barked, my voice raw with impatience.

Marcus stopped pacing, his expression grim. “There’ve been reports of a rogue pack near the Canadian border. They’ve been... collecting people. Women, specifically.”

My stomach twisted into a knot. Women. The word echoed in my skull, heavy and suffocating. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay composed.

“And?”

Ethan straightened, his golden eyes flickering in the low light. “And one of the descriptions matches Quinn.”

The ground tilted beneath me. I gripped the edge of the desk to steady myself. Matches Quinn? My Quinn? After all this time?

“Where exactly?” I demanded, my voice a low growl.

Marcus pulled a crumpled map from his pocket and slapped it onto the desk. His finger jabbed at a small, unmarked area. “Here. Near an abandoned mill. Some rogues from our network said they’ve seen her—or someone who looks like her.”

Ethan shifted uncomfortably. “It’s thin, Luca. Could be nothing.”

I didn’t care. My mind was already made up.

“When do we leave?” I grabbed my jacket off the back of the chair.

Marcus hesitated, and that hesitation made my blood boil.

“Luca,” he said carefully, like he was talking to a bomb about to go off, “we don’t know if it’s her. We don’t even know if it’s real. It could be a trap.”

I shrugged the jacket on and faced him head-on. “And? If there’s even a one percent chance it’s her, I’m not sitting here twiddling my thumbs.”

Ethan’s voice was calm but firm. “We’re with you, but don’t let this lead you off a cliff. You’ve got a pack to think about.”

I glared at him. “Don’t talk to me about the pack. This is about her.”

They exchanged a look but didn’t argue.

The drive to the border was tense, the silence thick with unspoken worries. Marcus and Ethan sat stiffly in their seats while I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles went white. Each mile felt like an eternity, every second a reminder of the years I’d wasted chasing shadows.

We parked near the mill—an ominous silhouette against the night sky. The place was old, dilapidated, and reeked of rust and damp wood.

“This is it,” Marcus said quietly.

I didn’t wait for them. My boots hit the gravel as I marched toward the building, determination coursing through my veins.

“Luca, wait!” Ethan called, but I ignored him.

The mill’s walls were covered in graffiti, its windows shattered. I kicked the door open, the wood splintering under my force. The air inside was stale, thick with mildew and something faintly sour.

Except for an old mattress crammed into a corner and a few overturned crates, the place was deserted.

“Check the perimeter,” I ordered sharply.

Ethan and Marcus moved without question, leaving me alone in the oppressive silence. My eyes scanned every corner, every shadow, desperate for any sign of her. A scent, a piece of clothing, anything.

Nothing.

Frustration boiled over. I slammed my fist into the nearest wall. The wood cracked, but it did nothing to ease the fury clawing at my chest.

“Luca,” Marcus’s voice echoed from outside.

I spun around, heart racing. “What?”

He stepped into the doorway, holding a torn piece of cloth. My breath caught in my throat.

Quinn used to wear a brown jacket.

“Found it near the tree line,” he said, handing it to me.

I brought it to my face, inhaling deeply. The scent was faint but unmistakable.

Her.

“She was here,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

Ethan appeared behind Marcus, his face tight with concern. “Luca, that could’ve been from years ago. There’s no proof she’s still around.”

“Shut up,” I snapped, my voice raw.

With the fabric clenched in my fist, I bolted out of the mill. The forest loomed ahead, dark and unwelcoming, but I didn’t care. My wolf was already clawing its way to the surface.

Before anyone could stop me, I shifted, my body tearing apart and reforming in a blur of fur and muscle. I hit the ground running, paws pounding against the earth as I followed the faint trail.

Behind me, Ethan and Marcus shifted, their howls slicing through the night.

The scent twisted and turned, leading us deeper into the forest. Trees blurred past, and the ground became a treacherous maze of roots and undergrowth.

Then—nothing.

The trail vanished.

I skidded to a halt, chest heaving, the fabric still clenched in my jaws. Rage and desperation warred within me.

I let out a howl, the sound raw and filled with anguish.

Ethan and Marcus flanked me, their wolves tense and watchful. Ethan nudged me with his muzzle, his golden eyes filled with sympathy.

I stood there, defeated, the cold air biting against my skin as I shifted back.

“It’s not over,” I told them through the pack bond. “She’s out there. I know it.”

Back at the mansion, the ripped fabric lay on my desk like a cruel reminder. Crissy hovered near the doorway, her usual eagerness replaced with caution.

She knew better than to speak when I was like this.

“Luca,” Marcus said as he stepped into the room.

“What now?” I snapped.

He hesitated, then shook his head. “We’ll keep looking.”

I didn’t respond, my eyes fixed on the fabric. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

The night wore on, fatigue gnawing at my edges, but my mind wouldn’t stop. What-ifs and worst-case scenarios played on an endless loop.

Then, the phone rang.

I snatched it up without thinking, my heart pounding.

“Luca,” a gruff voice said on the other end.

“Who is this? ”I demanded.

There was a pause, then: “I have information about your mate.”

My blood turned to ice.

The line went dead.